Gumdrops Falling From a Cotton Candy Sky
by Aina Riddle
Summary: What if Charlie had in actuality been a girl? A girl named Chocolat Charlotte Bucket-courtesy of Mrs. Bucket’s craving for chocolate during her pregnancy-who is actually 19 years old when the tickets are sent out. WonkaxOC sort of...Rated T to be safe
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Charlie and the Chocolate Factory or any of the characters associated with it.

**Summary:** What if Charlie had in actuality been a girl? A girl named Chocolat Bucket (courtesy of Mrs. Bucket's craving for chocolate during her pregnancy) who is 19 years old when the tickets are sent out.

**A/N:** For some reason I have recently started obsessing over this movie. Granted, it is a good movie and Johnny Depp is hot, but I've always liked the older version more… Oh well, I hope y'all enjoy and forgive me for any mess ups with the script since I've only really seen this movie twice and I can't find my copy to watch it again. I also know this idea is quite normal, but I'm stealing no ones work.

This one isn't very long, but the others should be longer.

Chocolat's name is pronounced with an 'sh' sound, If you've ever played Tales of Symphonia think of that tour guide's name.

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**Gumdrops Falling From a Cotton Candy Sky**

_**By Aina Riddle**_

**Chapter One: A Pedestal Built With Sugar Cubes**

Slowly the customers trickle in once school is out and I reluctantly put away my writing notebook, having been writing in it since no one had seen fit to get candy before this and therefore the store has been empty. Giving the children a soft smile, I push my wavy, dark brown hair behind my ears and start to help them. I'll admit it, I have a soft spot for kids, but that's not my reason for working in a candy store. No, there are two reasons I work here; one is the fact that I apparently can't aim very well and therefore my employer for my newspaper route was desperate to get me away and so he suggested this store; and two is because it makes me feel at least a little closer to Willy Wonka.

I've been fascinated by Mr. Wonka ever since I first tasted his candy and heard Grandpa Joe's stories about him. My dream is to be a writer and a man with such creativity and who actually goes out there and finds the magic hidden in this dreary world is truly magnificent. Willy Wonka is my idol and has been for as long as I can remember, he's everything I can wish to be. So I work here, because maybe, just maybe, candy is what gave him his inspiration and maybe I can find inspiration too. I also might meet Mr. Wonka, but that's a really, really, really small chance and only if he actually checks on the local stores that sell his wares, which I'm pretty sure he doesn't. But like Grandma Georgina always says, nothing is impossible.

Soon enough the time for closing comes and I quickly gather up my notebook, my threadbare jacket, scarf, gloves, and hat (all black since that seems to be the cheapest fabric color) and head out the door after waving goodbye to my co-workers. The air outside is freezing and I quicken my pace, hoping that it would warm me up, but I notice no change as I pause outside of the factory gates. The gray towers of the factory are so high and seem so out of reach that a familiar sense of hopelessness envelops me. With a frown I rest my hand upon the gates, my dark blue eyes searching every shadow for even one sign of life, a sign that even my place of salvation doesn't sometimes drift back into the gray, gloomy world of reality. I find nothing and with a small sigh I reluctantly remove my hand and begin my trek towards home once again.

The snow crunches under my shoes as I walk towards the door before opening it and feeling no change in the temperature as I walk in. My mom stands before the stove while the scent of cabbage soup drifts to my nose and I give a small smile at the familiarity of the smell and the sense of home it gives me. "I don't suppose you have anything to add to it?" She asks my father, who shakes his head, but I speak up before she adds more cabbage.

"I brought some carrots that I managed to get from the store," I speak up, moving over to hug everyone. My grandparents are all huddled under the blankets of our one decent bed and I give them all hugs too, removing my scarf and hat, but keeping on the gloves and jacket like my mother always does. She still has on her jacket because despite being near the stove this house doesn't provide much heat with the holes in the roof, and we both have iron deficiencies and therefore get cold easily. "Stan said they were going to be getting rid of them because a customer dropped them, but I figured that with a good washing they should be fine, right?" She nods eagerly and I set to work after removing my gloves since I don't want to get them wet.

That night we all enjoy cabbage soup with a bit more flavor and the conversation soon turns to Mr. Wonka like always. "I don't suppose you could lose this silly crush with Willy Wonka and go out with Stan?" I roll me eyes at my dad's statement, sipping at the remaining soup in my bowl.

"I don't have a crush on Mr. Wonka, and Stan is engaged to Emily. Plus, I hardly even know Stan and I know a lot more about Wonka from Grandpa Joe's stories." I respond before finishing my soup and gathering the empty bowls from my grandparents and parents. "Do you think you could tell me a story tonight, Grandpa Joe? About Willy Wonka?"

"No, she doesn't have a crush, she has an obsession," Grandpa George mutters and I give him a half-hearted glare.

"Oh, shush, she's a grown girl and she can obsess or crush on whoever she wants." I give my mom a grateful smile, which she returns before turning towards the dishes in the sink. "Now darling, don't you have to open the store tomorrow? I think a story can wait until another night." I nod absently, but the protest is already leaving my lips.

"Just one story, please? I have a feeling tomorrow is going to be crazy and I need something to relax me beforehand." Grandma Georgina claps suddenly and I jump from where I'm leaning against the small landing holding the ladder to my room.

"Chocolat sells chocolate!" I nod with a small smile at her assessment and with her interruption my mom forgets her arguments and we all settle down for a story.

"Did I ever tell you about Prince Pondicherry and his chocolate palace?"

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Attempting to hold in my yawn, I hold tight to my hat as I walk towards work before noticing a crowd gathered around a lamppost and looking at a sign. Looking around for a gap in the crowd, I notice more signs on the other posts and hurry over to one. Maybe some rich person lost their dog and is willing to pay a reward? Usually I help find lost pets even if there isn't a reward, but a large reward might be the cause for the crowd. The sign comes into view and I freeze in my tracks as I read the first few words.

_Dear people of the world,_

_I, Willy Wonka, have decided to allow five children to visit my factory this year. In addition, one of these children shall receive a special prize beyond anything you could ever imagine. Five Golden tickets have been hidden underneath the ordinary wrapping paper of five ordinary Wonka bars. The five candy bars may be anywhere, in any shop, in any street, in any town, in any country in the world. So watch out for the Golden Tickets! The five lucky finders of these Golden Tickets will be the ones who will be allowed to visit my factory. Good luck to you all, and happy hunting!_

_Willy Wonka_

I feel my mouth fall open and my gaze automatically drifts to the factory with smoke billowing from its towers. I can meet Willy Wonka if I just find a Golden Ticket and then I know for sure that I'll be able to write something amazing, and then my family won't be poor anymore with the sales. I just need to find a ticket, but I don't have enough spare money to buy chocolate when I can spend it on food for dinner. I only get one chocolate bar a year and that's for my birthday, which is still a week away and by then all of the tickets will have been found with how crazy people will go buying the candy…

I run to the store at that thought, knowing that they'll need all the help they can get to get everything ready for the stampede. I can't afford to lose this job because I was late on the busiest day we'll ever have. I enter through the side door with my key, shoving it shut as some people try to enter with me, and quickly toss my jacket, hat, and other accessories in a corner with my notebook before placing on my apron and walking forward to stock the shelves quickly. We only have half an hour 'til we open and I mentally brace myself for the crowd during that time.

The doors open and I remember Grandma Georgina's words from last night _'Chocolat sells chocolate'_. Sometimes I wonder if she is psychic, because I'm definitely going to be selling a lot of chocolate today.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer_:_**_ Obviously I do not own it otherwise I wouldn't be writing fan fiction. Although, I'm sure if I ever manage to write a series I'll be putting stuff I took out of it on here. It would be quite fun, especially since I'd truly be able to say I actually own the characters and then fling that back into any lawyer's face._

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**Gumdrops Falling From a Cotton Candy Sky**

_**By Aina Riddle**_

**Chapter Two: A Glitter of Gold Amongst the Murky Depths of Reality**

The night time air is strangely calm after working at the candy shop today. Customers had been coming nonstop all day and some of them had even gotten violent among each other and with us workers as well. The tear in my sleeve and my torn apron, which I'll have to sew all of it tonight, were because of a rather impatient man grabbing me and demanding I get him some chocolate. My boss had pulled me out of the frantic guy's grasp, tearing my clothes with the force, and threw him out as an example to everyone there. It calmed down enough after that, that there were no more fights.

I pause outside of the gates of the factory once again, absentmindedly fingering the torn apron caused by this man's contest, but I don't blame him. I don't think I ever could. My stay in front of the factory is much more short-lived than usual and I turn, exhausted, back towards my house and begin walking.

Soon enough it begins to snow and I clutch my coat closer to me, knowing that now I'll be sleeping with it on after I dry it. My small room has a bit of a whole in the roof above it, so I have to wear something more than pajamas to bed in order to stay warm. We had once had glass in that spot, but some kids had thrown rocks at it and we just don't have the money to replace it. Those had been some boys from my old high school (I had graduated last year, having helped pay for supplies by getting the job at the candy store, part-time then), and those boys always made fun of my fascination with Willy Wonka. The rocks had had Willy Wonka faces (or at least what people think he looks like) painted on them, and so I never complain because it's my fault that the window is broke.

"Chocolat! Oh darling we were so worried, come on, come on." I look up at my mom's voice and allow her to guide me into the house before I collapse on a chair. "Today must have been busy with those Golden Tickets going around."

"You wouldn't believe how bad it was mother!" I say, accepting the bowl of soup she had just reheated on the stove gratefully. "People who are of the nicest sorts usually were going crazy and fighting with the other customers. I just know it's going to get worse as the tickets are found and people begin to get desperate."

"Yes, but imagine how it would be to open a bar of chocolate and find a Golden Ticket inside!" Grandpa Joe says and I nod in agreement.

"That's true, I would _love _to find a Golden Ticket, but with how quick his chocolate is selling there won't be any left by the time my shift is over to buy one." I admit with a small sigh, thinking of finally meeting Willy Wonka but knowing it's not possible. "Plus, I don't have the money to waste on some chocolate no matter how much I want to, so it's impossible."

"That's not true, you have the same chance as everyone else to find a Golden Ticket and you get a chocolate bar for your birthday every year, and that's just next week." I smile at the encouraging words from my mother, but I don't get my hopes up.

"By the time next week comes all of the Golden Tickets will have been found, especially with how sales are going," I let out with a sigh. "I suppose I can just hope I'll get a tip or something, but that doesn't seem likely with how rude the customers are being to us. I had one grab me today and my boss tore me out of his grasp and threw the guy out. Speaking of which, I need to sew up my apron and shirt."

"Someone actually grabbed you?" I nod at my dad's question and he shakes his head in disbelief. "Maybe you shouldn't go back if it's a danger to you."

"No! I have to go back!" I try to express the urgency of my statement. I can't leave my only connection to Willy Wonka, I refuse to. "We need the money anyways."

"Alright darling, but you remember what I taught you if another guy grabs you tomorrow." Letting out a small laugh as my mom reminds me of her self-defense technique (kick him where it hurts and once he's down kick him there again for good measure before running), I stand to get ready for bed.

"I will. Now I'm going to get a bath and then sew up my clothes and then bed, because I'm just too tired to hear a story tonight. Plus, I just know I'll have to work open to close tomorrow too," I say, shedding my coat and placing it with the others as I walk toward our small bathroom.

"I'll sew up your clothes, you just get some sleep." My mom offers and I nod in thanks. "I'm sure you'll find a Golden Ticket, darling."

"Nonsense!" Comments Grandpa George, "The finders are going to be children who can afford buying loads of those bars every single day, and as our Chocolat here said, she doesn't have a chance. Mark my words," he adds, "The finder of the first Ticket is going to be as fat as a pig!"

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Grandpa George wasn't wrong. When I wake up in the morning there is already a broadcast about the first ticket being found. A fat boy from Dusseldorf, Germany stands in front of his mother with his bright blue eyes peering from his large face, orange hair atop it. His looks are obviously inherited from his mother, who announces that there was no way for her son not to find a Golden Ticket with how much chocolate he eats. The boy, Augustus Gloop, shows his ticket with an obvious bite mark in it and explains how he found it.

"Despicable!" Grandpa George spits out and I nod in silent agreement.

"What a pig!" Grandma Josephine adds.

"It doesn't surprise me, but I suppose with this find work is going to be even busier. I should get going." I try not to let my disappointment show as I say this. My once chance of meeting Mr. Wonka, which I hadn't even thought possible before, is slipping away before my very eyes and I can't do a thing about it. I walk out the door and begin my walk to work, mentally preparing myself on the way for the chaos.

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"Give me three Wonka bars!"

"I want two!"

"The second Golden Ticket has been found!" I pause at the last shout, as does everyone else, while the one who shouted it reads the article in the paper. "The second Golden Ticket was found by Veruca Salt, who lives in England with her rich parents. Mr. Salt had bought half a million Wonka bars when Veruca announced she wanted a Golden ticket and had the girls shelling nuts for his nut business instead shell the wrappers from the candy bars. It was only a matter of time before Veruca received a ticket."

"Well, that's not very fair; she didn't even find it on her own!" I shout, angry that such a spoiled brat had gotten the ticket just because her dad is rich. Many customers around me agree, but soon enough people start buying candy with even more vigor and I get back to work. I don't regret my outburst, but I know I'm just upset because there really seems no chance that anyone who can't afford to buy a lot of chocolate will actually win a ticket.

"Chocolat, get more Wonka bars from the back!" Handing someone their change, I run to the back and grab a box of bars, struggling to keep them in since it managed to get a hole in the truck. I don't even have time to get the bars to the shelf as I'm pushed aside and the customers begin grabbing. I feel my side hit the corner of the counter and I groan in pain, but I ignore it as Carol shouts for help at the register. I hurry over and begin to help, knowing that the ache in my side means I'll have a large bruise soon enough.

I don't even pause in front of the factory gates on my way home; instead I just glance at it and freeze when I see a figure in a lit window. It's blurry and I know I'll never get anything better since I don't have any chance of getting a ticket, but the sight cheers me up just a bit. A small smile comes to my face as I continue walking, holding my aching side and wondering if I maybe cracked a rib. Carol had bandaged it up, ranting about inconsiderate customers and how we should sue whoever did it, but we really have no clue who did do it, so her rants had no real purpose other than getting rid of her frustration.

"I'm home!" I shout as I walk in and they all greet me. "I'm not really up to eating anything tonight mom, I'm too tired." I go to take a nice hot bath; well as hot as I can get it, and then fall asleep the second my head hits the pillow, exhausted from work today. I'm just so glad I don't have to work tomorrow and be reminded that I'll never get a Golden Ticket.

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"Chocolat! Get up, Chocolat! We need you at the shop today! You'll get paid overtime!" I blink open my eyes at the shout and look through the hole in the roof of my room to see Carol, all bundled up and shouting through cupped hands. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I let her words register and get up with a groan at my aching body. We need the money and overtime gives me a chance to buy a Wonka Bar when I get paid tomorrow.

"I'm coming!" I shout back and I quickly get dressed, hugging everyone on my way out and accepting the small apple from my mom gratefully. "Let's get going, Carol." We head off as the snow begins to fall.

"How are you doing, Chocolat? I know with your fascination with Wonka and not being able to buy any chocolate until we're closed, when none is left, that this Golden Ticket thing must be killing you." She pauses, biting her lip in thought before she continues. "I can see how much you want to get a ticket…and you don't even want it for the candy or prize, do you?" I look up at the factory when we pass it before answering Carol.

"No, I just want to meet him… Seeing him and the inside of his factory would be the best things I could ever get." I stop talking as we reach the store, customers already gathered around outside. "It's a good thing a late shipment arrived last night and we were able to stock the shelves then. Anyways, can you believe I haven't written anything in my notebook since this all started? I just can't concentrate with everything going on."

"Wow, that bad, huh?" I nod in agreement as we both slip on our aprons and our boss unlocks the door before jumping out of the way of the stampede of customers. I'm always writing in my notebook and almost every part of it is covered with my messy script, so by not writing it's obvious how much not being able to find a ticket is affecting me.

The day passes quickly and when I arrive home after once again seeing that figure in the factory window, I find my smile from that gone when I see my family gathered around the T.V. The broadcast is about two more tickets being found.

One of the kids is a girl named Violet Beauregard who is shown fighting with her karate instructors, a blackbelt wrapped securely around her waist. Her hair is short and blonde and she has dark blue eyes just like her mother, whom she looks like a copy of. She smacks her gum with an annoying sound as she brags about being a winner and that there is no doubt that she'll win that ticket, her mother encouraging her.

"What a horrible girl!" I hear someone shout and I nod my head before remembering that no one knows I'm home.

The second kid is a young boy named Mike Teavee playing some violent video games. He has spiky, dark brown hair and his brown eyes are focused intently on the screen as he explains how he found the Golden Ticket. He mentions something about a code system that he says any retard could figure out and simply states that he only had to buy one chocolate bar. I walk over and turn off the television, frustrated that a boy who hates chocolate just made it into the world's largest chocolate factory.

"Sorry, it was just making me a bit mad that so far all of the winners are so rude," I say, apologizing to my shocked family. I know I'm being a bit more outgoing with my feelings than usual, but this thing is frustrating me. My dream is going away with every ticket found and it causes a deep void to fill my heart at every announcement.

"Um, I'm getting paid overtime for working today, so tomorrow, after I get paid, we can have a nice dinner." I say in the silence and Grandma Georgina breaks it with a shout of 'Hooray!' I laugh at that and we all settle down for some soup and listen to another story about Willy Wonka. I may not want to hear about the Golden Tickets, but I can always listen to a story about Mr. Wonka. After Grandpa Joe's story, I get up to get ready for bed, secretly grabbing some ice for my bruised and swollen side, which I still haven't told my parents about. We can't afford a hospital bill in order to get it checked out, so they don't need to know.

"Chocolat?" I pause at my mom's voice and I look over at them to see my parents smiling and holding something behind their backs.

"We were wondering if perhaps you want your birthday present early?" I grin at my dad's words and run over to them, giving them each a hug when they reveal the wrapped gift. I tear the gift wrap eagerly and reach for the opening of the wrapper of the candy bar as my mom cautions me.

"Now, don't be too disappointed if it happens to, you know…" She trails off, but I understand her meaning and give her a nod. Even having a chance and not finding it is okay, because at least I got a chance. I slowly peel the wrapper, but nothing is revealed except the chocolate and with a small, slightly sad smile I pass out the candy to everyone despite their protests.

"It's my candy bar and I can do what I want with it," I argue and they stop protesting as we enjoy our chocolate. I go to bed with a lighter heart despite not finding the Golden Ticket and I fall asleep watching the factory.

The morning brings a clear day with the sun reflecting brightly off of the snow, and with a smile and a yawn I begin getting ready for work. My good mood vanishes when I hear the announcement about a Russian boy finding the last Golden Ticket and I feel that void in my heart come back full force. My dream of ever meeting Willy Wonka is gone just like that; I clutch my hand to my aching chest before exiting the house quickly so I can get away from the news.

I walk to work in a daze and when I get there for once there isn't a line of customers waiting for us to open. The reality hits me once more and I swallow the lump in my throat as I walk in and we open. Business is like what it was before the contest and for the first time in the past couple of days I get a break, which I gladly take in the back room to get away from the gossiping customers. I notice a Wonka Bar on the ground as I sit in a corner and I crawl over to grab it from under the shelf, ignoring the aching pain in my side. I must have dropped this the other day when I was carrying that busted box.

"Carol! Can you ring me up for this?" I shout, walking out from the back and showing her the candy bar. "I found it under the shelf and realized I must've dropped it the other day when I brought out that box. I'm not just going to let it go to waste…" With a small laugh, Carol gladly rings me up half-price because it was under a shelf and I begin walking to the back as I unwrap it.

"Can you believe the nerve of some people, faking a Golden Ticket?" I hear a customer say, and I realize that the glitter of gold under the foil isn't a figment of my imagination. With shaking hands I slip the Golden Ticket out from under the wrapper and the candy bar falls out of my hands.

"Chocolat?" Carol asks when she sees my frozen form and the chocolate bar on the floor. I turn around, the ticket held in front of me, and she gasps in surprise. "Oh my god… You found the last Golden Ticket!"

"I-I…wow…" I manage out, my eyes wide as I stare at the ticket in my hands. "I need to get home, tell my parents…"

"Well, hurry, before a mob forms," My boss shouts and I rush to comply, quickly gathering all of my stuff and running out the door. Shouts rise up behind me about the last ticket really being found, but I ignore them as I run past the factory with just a glance and grin towards it. My side is aching by the time I reach my house and I'm numb since I didn't bother to actually put my coat on, but I run in and let out an excited shout.

"I found the last Golden Ticket! I'm going to meet Willy Wonka!" My grin never fades as I pass the ticket to everyone for them to see and Grandpa Joe amazingly jumps out of bed and does a little jig. I give him a hug, just because I'm in a happy mood, and we read the ticket, realizing that the event takes place tomorrow. "It says I can take someone to watch over me…"

"You're not a child anymore; you can go alone if you want to Chocolat." I smile at Grandpas Joe's words as he sits back down on the bed, not yet ready to walk very much. "I would love to go, but I don't think I'm up for it."

"That's true Grandpa Joe, and I would definitely take you if you were feeling just a bit better." I pause, looking around at my family before biting my bottom lip in nervousness. "I know I'm old enough to go alone, but I think I want to take you with me, mum." My mom is surprised at the announcement, but she quickly pulls me into a hug, which I return. "Now, let's go shopping for some food for a celebration dinner before we're bombarded by reporters. I got paid today so we have the money for it."

As soon as we get home with the groceries we find ourselves surrounded by reporters and I sit down on the bed in-between my grandparents as they ask their questions.

"What's your name? How did you find the ticket?" Is the first question asked that I can hear and I answer it easily enough.

"My name is Chocolat Bucket. I work at a candy shop and I found a candy bar that had fallen from a box a couple days ago. It had gotten a hole in it while in the truck; the box did, so I wasn't able to keep all of it from falling out." I pause, nervously tugging on my hair as I look around. "I found it this morning while on my break and bought it since it was in a wrapper and still perfectly good. Plus, I didn't want it to go to waste. I opened it and couldn't believe that the gold I was seeing was real until I overheard a customer saying that that other one was a fake."

"You work in a candy store? So how many bars did you open?"

"We're only allowed to buy candy when we're not working, which means on our breaks or when we close. We were always out of chocolate by the time we closed and during the whole contest we were too busy to get any breaks." I absently rub my side, the ache that's still there a reminder of how busy the store was. "I opened one bar of chocolate last night as an early birthday gift and then the bar this morning."

"How old are you? Are you young enough for this contest?" A voice shouts, but I can't find the speaker in the crowd.

"I'm nineteen and I'll be twenty in three days, but since I'm still below twenty for the contest part I'm eligible. Do I really look that old to you?" A reporter laughs, shaking his head in amusement and in answer to my question.

"How do you feel about going in the factory? Do you think your name was a premonition of this happening?" I laugh slightly at that and pull my mom beside me.

"I can't wait to go inside the factory…I can't wait to see Mr. Wonka's creativity at work and to finally meet him…" I pause to enjoy being able to say that. This all still seems like a dream. "My name is because of my mom's craving for chocolate when she was pregnant with me, not because of some premonition."

"Are the rumors true about you being obsessed with Willy Wonka?" My eyes lock on the haughty looking reporter who reminds me of a girl from my class, but then again she just might actually be that girl.

"I'm not obsessed, I just find him fascinating and now we really need to start ending this interview. Big day tomorrow, for all of us." The questions wind down after that and after posing for a family picture for the paper, ticket held in front of me, we begin making a fantastic dinner with desert being the winning candy bar I had grabbed before leaving work today.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** Nope, still don't own it. I wish I owned the Chocolate Room though, because I love chocolate.

**A/N:** I meant to have this as only one part and I really didn't want to split it because the chapter titles have significance (you'll all know by the end of the story), but it was really long. So y'all are lucky and are getting two parts tonight. I won't be able to update for a little while after this because I have a Biology 2 lab practical and a test in the lecture course for it and I need to study. I also need to do better in Chemistry (of course I just had to get a teacher who hasn't taught any level lower than grad students before to teach a Chemistry 1 class). Anyways, enjoy and take care! This is dedicated to my only reviewer, Soul of Doom (love the name btw). This also counts as the author's note for the next part, same for the disclaimer because I don't want to write it again. Forgive me for any mispellings, I didn't have time to read it over because I have hw I haven't done.

**Gumdrops Falling From a Cotton Candy Sky**

_**By Aina Riddle**_

**Chapter three: Cotton Candy Sky (part 1)**

"Chocolat, are you ready?" I glance up from slipping on my black dress shoes, a purple bow on the top of each. The bows match the strip of purple on my black dress that runs just below the bust line and ties in the back. The dress itself reaches my knees and is a little low cut on the neckline with short, black sleeves and is made of some sort of soft material. Carol had bought it for me as an early birthday gift and I can't thank her enough for it, even though I know she had only gotten purple because that's a color associated with Willy Wonka.

"Yeah, but can you come and tie my dress for me?" I ask and hope she doesn't wonder why I just tie it myself. It would hurt too much because my side is really hurting today after yesterday's excitement and so I don't need to stretch it unnecessarily. My mom moves up the ladder and I hear my dad whistle playfully since she's wearing a dress as well.

Her dress is a dark black and has a small flowery design sewn into it with white thread. She had gotten the dress as a Christmas present from me a few years back when I had gotten a holiday bonus, but she had sewn on the design just last night. Her curly hair is styled and she holds our two jackets in her hands. "You look wonderful mom," I say, giving her a light hug. "You should design for a job, I'm sure people would love it. Just have them bring the dress they want changed and voila, you change it and get paid."

"Oh shush, we need to hurry or we'll be late." I automatically turn around at that and let her tie my dress, letting out a gasp as she pulls it tight. "Something wrong?"

"The other day at work I was pushed aside by some customers and I hit my side against the corner of the counter," I pause, my gaze on the floor as I try to avoid her concerned stare. "It's been bruised since and has been hurting, especially now after my run yesterday. I have it bandaged though with supplies from the store since it happened there, so if I do happen to have any cracked ribs they should be fine…"

"You should have told us, we would have found the money to take you to the doctor's." I shake my head at that before looking at her as she finishes tying the bow, not as tight as earlier.

"They would have just had us put bandages on it to brace it and that's what I'm doing, so there's no point." I watch as she glances at the factory hesitantly and I speak up again before she can say anything. "I'm going; I'm not giving up on meeting Willy Wonka."

"Of course, darling." She pauses before reaching over and pushing a strand of my hair behind my ear. "Now, let's go meet this crush of your's." I roll my eyes at that and we begin walking with my dad and Grandpa Joe after waving goodbye to the others. The familiar sight of the factory rises before us as we get closer and I eye the crowd in front of it warily, clutching the Golden Ticket in my hands with an iron grip. I don't really trust people with how they acted just buying the Wonka bars, let alone how they'll act to get a chance at snatching a Golden Ticket directly.

"Excuse me; can we get through, please?" I ask, tapping on the shoulder of a reporter. They turn to look and I blink at the flashing of lights before giving up on them moving and pushing my way through instead. I don't like being forceful when I don't have to, but they wouldn't leave us alone and I could tell my mom was getting nervous. I was too, but I'm just better at hiding it. The other Golden Ticket holders stand separate from the crowd, more in front of the group and directly in front of the gates, and we join them, standing on the right end, after my mom kisses my dad goodbye.

"Make time go faster!" I hear an arrogant sounding voice demand and I look over to see Veruca Salt and her father. Mike Teavee is standing bored with his father while Mrs. Beauregarde encourages a gum-chewing Violet and Augustus eats some chocolate. I let my eyes wander up the towers of the factory as the clock strikes ten and a voice that could only belong to Mr. Wonka (as far as I know he's the only one in there) comes from the speakers as the gates open.

"Please enter." We all walk forward and pause just inside, unsure what to do before the voice comes again. "Come forward." We proceed forward quietly and I feel my mom's hand slip into mine to calm our nerves and to stop me from pulling on my hair like I usually do I'm when nervous. "Close the gates." The gates behind us close slowly before shutting with a click of finality. I'm finally past those gates that have kept me away for so long and now I'm going to meet Willy Wonka. My heart pounds in my chest as I listen to the voice once again.

"Dear Visitors, it is my great pleasure to welcome you to my humble factory. And who am I? Well…" The wall before us slides apart to reveal a large red curtain, Willy Wonka's initials in gold upon it, which parts to reveal a colorful stage with candy designs mixed in. Some joyful sounding music begins playing as voices laugh in time with the beat. The stage comes to life as mechanical puppet children begin to sing and dance.

_Willy Wonka, Willy Wonka_

_The amazing chocolatier!_

_Willy Wonka, Willy Wonka_

_Everybody give a cheer!_

_He's modest, clever, and so smart_

_He barely can restrain it_

_There's so much generosity_

_There is nowhere to contain it…to contain it_

_To contain, to contain, to contaaaaaaaaaaaain!_

_Willy Wonka, Willy Wonka_

_He's the one that you're about to meet!_

_Willy Wonka, Willy Wonka_

_He's the genius who just can't be beat_

_A magician and a chocolate whiz_

_The best darn guy who ever lived_

_Willy Wonka, here he iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiis!_

A red velvet throne emerges from the floor at that line and I look at it with confusion when I see no one is in the chair. When the fireworks go off and everything catches fire and begins to melt I let out a sigh of relief, happy that he wasn't actually in the chair. The sound of the music distorting is eerie as the puppets slowly melt.

"Ha ha, wasn't that just magnificent?" I hear a voice ask from beside me and I jump, turning to see who it is. A tall man wearing large, dark spectacles (with purple framing) with extremely pale skin and has a bob haircut with silky-looking, chocolate brown hair stands beside me, a childlike grin on his rather handsome face. I just know this is Willy Wonka from his purple latex gloves and dark violet (almost black) top hat and coat, and because he smells like a mixture of scents; a rather strange mixture of chocolate, peanuts, and a faint scent of vanilla. "I was worried it was getting a little dodgy in the middle part, but then that finale…wow!" He lets out another of his strange, yet endearing laughs, waving his candy filled cane around as he speaks.

"Who are you?" Violet asks in a condescending tone, as if he's lesser than her, while she chews her gum the whole time.

"He's Willy Wonka," I breathe out as Mr. Wonka puts on a nervous smile before hurrying up onto the small stage, the fire having burnt itself out for the most part.

"Good morning Starshine, the Earth says hello!" I smile at that, but the ensuing silence becomes awkward quickly as the other winners stare at him incredulously. That's just the kind of greeting I expected from him though, a creative and strange one. The hammering of my heart is still a loud, erratic tattoo in my ears and I can barely hear the shuffling of the white index cards he pulls out from his inside coat pocket.

"Dear Guests, greetings!" He says, giving us all a warm, yet slightly nervous smile. "Welcome to the factory! I shake you warmly by the hand." He holds out his hand, not even caring he just said the action aloud as well. He clenches and unclenches his held out hand nervously, the latex rubbing together and emitting a squeaky noise, but I can only give him a small wave, nervous about asserting myself in front of this group. "My name is Willy Wonka," He continues after withdrawing his hand, but he's cut off as Veruca speaks up.

"Then shouldn't you be up there?" I look at the partially melted chair she must be referring to and Mr. Wonka gives her gives her a smile that any adult would give to a rather slow child.

"Well, I couldn't very well watch the show from up there, now could I, little girl?" He asks as if it's obvious, and it is.

"To be honest, I'm glad he wasn't in the chair, especially when it caught fire," I say quietly, but no one other than my mom notices my comment.

"Mr. Wonka, my father wanted me to say hello, he wasn't feeling well enough to come with my daughter," My mom's words grab Mr. Wonka's attention and I supply an answer to his confused look.

"He used to work for you." Mr. Wonka's face becomes serious as he speaks.

"Was he one of those despicable spies who everyday tried to steal my life's work and sell it to those parasitic, copycat, candy-making cads?" I shake my head no, taken aback by his comment. He was probably really hurt by those people though, after al he had even shut down the factory because of them. "Then wonderful! Tell him I said hello! Let's get going, kids."

We all follow him through the slightly burning stage, but I feel strange at the fact that he called me a kid. I suppose that since this is a contest for kids and I'm only just eligible because I'm still in my teens that it's only right to categorize me as a child. I quietly pull my mom along, dodging a flaming puppet eyeball that rolls in front of us as I sink into my thoughts. I don't know why it bothers me that he calls me a child, because he's about twenty years older than me and that could make me a child in his eyes, but I guess I want him to see me as an adult. As someone he can trust and rely on, but I refuse to focus on the reasoning for that as Augustus speaks up, breaking me out of my thoughts.

"Don't you want to know our names?" He asks as he slowly moves up the steps of the stage, the wall closing and shutting the outside world behind us.

"Can't imagine how it would matter. Come quickly, far too much to see." I frown at that, but quicken my pace nonetheless. That was rude, but exchanging personal information means trusting and trusting isn't something he must be willing to do. Plus, he probably just sees all of us as nuisances.

We emerge into a hallway, all a gray color with bright red accents here and there and further down the hall is a door. Beams of light come from the windows far above, mirrors used to reflect them to each desk lining the hall and form light circles above them. The heat of the hall hits me instantly and I pull off my coat to enjoy the warmth without getting too hot. It's nice to actually be able to take off my coat without getting cold.

"Just drop your coats anywhere," Mr. Wonka says, pulling off his coat and tossing it to the ground, revealing a maroon velvet blazer over a black suit. For the first time I notice a pin of an elaborate W attached to the collar of his shirt, and I'm surprised by how much I like it. I've never wanted for elaborate or pretty things, but that's something that belongs to Mr. Wonka and is so uniquely him that I actually like it. I also take note that the maroon strip on his top hat matches the coat, which is something I had wondered about earlier. Mr. Wonka also tosses his glasses on top of his coat as I toss mine on the ground on top of my mom's.

"Don't tell your father, but for his age, Mr. Wonka looks very fit," My mom whispers in my ear and I blush before smacking her on the arm playfully. She grins, back to her playful self now before continuing. "I'm just saying that he might not be too old for my darling Chocolat…"

"_Mom_," I whisper, glancing over to see Mr. Wonka not near enough to hear. "I told you I _do not_ have a crush on him…. He _is _hot though…"

"Mr. Wonka?" Mr. Teavee inquires as he removes his coat. "Sure is toasty in here."

"What?" The chocolatier asks, turning towards us giving us view to his now fully visible face. To my shock I notice his eyes are a dark violet color, almost like a blueberry, and have a depth to them very unlike other eyes. It almost seems possible to drown in those violet pools, smothered by the emotions swirling in them, emotions I can't decipher without looking harder. "Oh yeah, I have to keep it warm in here. My workers are used to an extremely hot environment. They just can't stand the cold."

"Workers?" I ask, confused. Maybe he had gone to search for replacement workers when the factory was shutdown? I push a strand of hair behind my ear shyly as Mr. Wonka's gaze turns to me.

"All in good time. Now…" He turns and begins walking again before he stops in his track as Violet hugs him from the side. I'm behind him and so I notice by watching his back just how much he tenses at the contact, and I frown. I suppose after going so long without human contact he must not be used to it, but he had said he had workers and surely they must be human…

"Mr. Wonka, I'm Violet Beauregarde," Violet says, standing back in her baby blue sweat suit as she chews her gum with an annoying smacking sound.

"Oh, I don't care," Mr. Wonka says and I try to resist smiling, which my mom notices with a disapproving frown. I can't help it though, that girl shouldn't have hugged him so suddenly and make him tense like that, I just don't like seeing him uncomfortable. It's hard to be creative when you're uncomfortable, and that's the only reason... After all, it's his creativity that attracts me and causes my fascination.

"Well, you should care, because I'm the girl who's going to win the special prize at the end." I roll my eyes at her gloat as we continue walking and Mr. Wonka responds.

"Well, you do seem confident and confidence is key." Violet looks back at her mother with a happy grin, which her mother responds to with a pointed look that obviously says 'I told you so.'

"I'm Veruca Salt, I'm pleased to meet you sir," Veruca says after she pushes her way through to stand in front of Mr. Wonka, giving a curtsy as she speaks.

"I always thought a verruca was a type of wart you get on the bottom of your foot," He replies in childish excitement, letting out another of his giggles. Veruca loses her fake smile as Augustus steps forward, preventing the man from continuing forward.

"I'm Augustus Gloop, I love your chocolate," The boy says, taking a bite of the large Wonka bar in his hand.

"I can see that. So do I," He responds in a placating tone. "I never thought we'd have so much in common." He seems annoyed at the constant interruptions and instead he stops and turns to Mike. "You. You're Mike Teavee; you're the little devil who cracked the system." I step back as he looks at me and something flashes in his intense violet eyes before he speaks. "And you, well you're just lucky to be here, aren't you?"

"She does have a name you know," My mom interjects, slightly angry at the comment but since it's very true she can't say a thing about it. "It's Chocolat."

"I like that name!" He says to me with a grin, which I return, albeit slightly smaller. "And the rest of you must be their…" He seems to struggle with the last word and my mom raises her eyebrow while the other parents also find the behavior strange.

"Parents." Mr. Salt suggests and Mr. Wonka let's out a relieved sigh.

"Yeah, moms and dads." A frown forms on his lips as he becomes lost in thought, talking to himself. "Dad…Papa?" I bite my lip in worry as he zones out, seemingly in a bad memory. I take a hesitant step forward, but he comes out of his trance before I can do anything. "He he, let's get a move on, shall we?" He suggests nervously before turning and walking down the hall in a calm pace, his cane sounding through the air with a thud at every step.

"You want some chocolate?" Augustus suggests, holding out his candy bar. I look at the partially eaten candy before shaking my head no. "I wasn't going to give you any anyways; you should've brought your own."

"Kids," I grumble under my breath as I watch Veruca and Violet agree to be "best friends" with fake smile as they interlock their arms. I like kids, I really do, but these ones are just annoying me with how rude they are. The hall begins growing smaller and I realize that the door had had an optical illusion to it. I find myself awfully close to Mr. Wonka in the small space, but instead of acknowledging my blush I let out a laugh at how he has to bend down so he doesn't hit his hat against the ceiling. I'm rather short, about 5' 4", so the height of the ceiling doesn't bother me at all.

"This is a very important room," Mr. Wonka explains in an excited tone. "This _is _a chocolate factory after all."

"Then why is the door so small?" Mike asks, speaking to Mr. Wonka like he's an idiot.

"That's to keep all the great big chocolaty flavor inside." He responds with another of his laughs before pulling a ring of keys from his pocket and slipping a key into the keyhole designed like the factory doors and turning it. I feel excitement well up in me as a loud click sounds and the chocolatier gives us a 'just wait and see' look as he pushes open the wall, revealing that to be the entire door.


	4. Chapter 4

**Gumdrops Falling From a Cotton Candy Sky**

_**By Aina Riddle**_

**Chapter four: Cotton Candy Sky (part 2)**

I promptly lose my breath as my mom grabs my hand tightly with a gasp of her own as we see what is behind the door.

The room before us is breathtaking and has a mixture of so many different scents of candy. With this room alone all of our food problems would be solved and we wouldn't have to face the harsh reality of the outside world anymore… In front of us is a large, chocolate waterfall gushing from the grayish white walls before the river it forms cuts through the bright green grass, washing away the shades of gray. It's a place of paradise and it's simply beautiful with the colorful plants and soothing atmosphere.

"Now do be careful my dear children." Mr. Wonka says as he leads us into the room, swinging his cane as he talks. He watches the waterfall as he continues speaking. "Don't lose your heads-"Augustus drops his candy bar in shock "-Don't get overexcited, just keep very calm." I look at the scenery again, seeing the bright red fruits of some sort hanging on the vine-like leaves of a strangely colored weeping willow, hanging over the chocolate river.

"It's beautiful," I say, looking around before jumping as Mr. Wonka responds. I had almost forgotten I wasn't alone.

"What?" My words had seemed to shock him as he looks at me before giving me a smile. "Oh yes, it's very beautiful." He leads us over a land bridge, under which runs the river. "Every drop of this river is hot, melted chocolate of the finest quality." We pause in front of the waterfall and he turns to us as he begins to explain. "The waterfall is very important. It churns the chocolate, makes it light, and frothy." He waves his hands around as he explains which is something I tend to do when explaining as well.

"By the way, no other factory in the world mixes its chocolate by waterfall, my dear children. And you can take that to the bank." He says, his last statement showing his lack of trust in us, but I admit that if I was in his position I wouldn't trust these brats either. I try to ignore the fact that he doesn't trust me as well. He moves forward again, before gesturing for us to go ahead of him.

"People," I pause right next to him at his word, having been passing him when he said it. He points toward a large pipe hovering over the river. "Those pipe suck up the chocolate. And carry it away, all over the factory." The waves his hand around when he says 'all over' and I smile at how proud he is of his work. He should be since he's the one who created this paradise. "Thousands of gallons an hour. Yeah." He grins before gesturing to the rest of the room.

"And do you like my meadow? Try some of my grass." I bend down and pick up a blade from the edge of the bridge since those probably haven't been stepped on. "Please have a blade, please do. It's so delectable and so darn good-looking." Everyone looks at him as if he's crazy (Which I can't really argue with at this point, but not everyone is perfect. At least crazy people like him don't intentionally harm you), but I try the blade of grass. I suck on it, receiving a chocolaty mint taste.

"Wow…" I say in wonder, my gaze turning to Mr. Wonka. "It's delicious!"

"Yeah. Everything in this room is eatable, even I'm eatable, but that is called cannibalism, my dear children, and is, in fact, frowned upon in most societies. Yeah" He explains, as if cannibalism is a normal, everyday topic. "Enjoy." I give him a smile before stumbling as my mom pulls me away and towards some candy cane trees. I can faintly hear him shooing the other children away as we stop and my mom turns to me with a serious look. She touches her fingers to her lips in nervousness and I tilt my head to the side in confusion.

"You like him, don't you? You really, truly, like him?" I hold in my instinctive 'no' as I think about her questions. I really care about what he thinks of me and I must admit I have a fondness for his quirks and have always been obsessed (which I'll now admit is true) with him. I think I have grown to like him through the vision I created of him, and now through the real thing.

"…Yes, I think I do," I respond slowly, quietly, and she gives a sigh, running her hands through her hair in frustration. "Do you disagree? I'll ignore this crush if you disagree…" And it's true, I will ignore my growing fondness for Mr. Wonka for my mom's sake, because she's my best friend and I don't want her to be disappointed with me; I've always longed for approval.

"No, it's fine," She replies before reaching over and smoothing out a wrinkle in my dress. "Just be careful, there's something…off…about him that makes me not want to trust him." I nod and we hug before I push her away towards the rest of the meadow.

"Thank you mom, but now go enjoy yourself." I order and she complies, she pauses when Mr. Wonka walks into our little clearing, but she just glances back at me briefly before walking away. I get the message; she wants me to be careful. I give him a nervous smile, my heart beating loudly in my ears as I wonder if he had heard our conversation.

"Hello…" I start as he stops near me, looking unsure of how to start a conversation.

"Hi! Do you like my meadow?" I nod enthusiastically, walking over to a bush and kneeling down before it. The leaves seem to be made of the same stuff as the grass as they give off a minty smell while the large, beautiful white roses seems to be made of white chocolate. "These are so beautiful, is the "wood" of the bush made from chocolate covered pretzels?"

"Yeah," He agrees as he walks over and plucks off a rose, the largest one from what I can tell. "Here you are, you should eat something 'cause you're really skinny." I smile at the childish way he says that and at his innocent smile. My blue gaze catches his violet one momentarily and I see into them briefly once again and at the emotions swirling in them. A childish delight with his little world is first and behind that is affection? No, that can't be right… deeper I see a storm of darker emotions probably caused by his earlier flashback.

"Thank you," I gently pluck the flower from his hand and feel shocked at how much it actually feels like a flower petal. "It's so soft! You're amazing!"

"Thanks! Oh yeah, do you really have a fascination with me?" I blush, looking down at the rose as I trace the petals softly, almost lovingly. I guess he must have a television somewhere in this place to know about that.

"Yes," I admit softly as I look over the river and see Mike kicking in a pumpkin. I absentmindedly pluck a bright red apple from the tree, the sent of caramel apple coming from it, before I toss it at Mike. Amazingly, I hit his head, but I had really been aiming at his chest so my aim really hasn't improved. "Little brat. Anyways, I have always been amazed at your candies. They're so creative and you can create a wonderland for your customers by doing what you love. I want to be a writer, you see, and I would love to have your level of creativity. I want to be able to make a story my readers can immerse themselves in…" I trail off as I feel my cheeks heat up, I hadn't meant to tell him so much.

"I'm sorry, you probably don't want to hear the silly dreams of someone like me, Mr. Wonka," I say, turning around and looking at him nervously before I start to walk past him.

"Call me Willy; Mr. Wonka is too formal, yuck." I let out a laugh as he breaks the tense atmosphere and we both grin. "Dreams aren't silly, Chocolat." His statement is utterly serious and it catches me off guard before we are interrupted.

"What is it? It's a little person!" Veruca's excited shouts to her father sound throughout the room and we all walk towards her. Mr. Wonka…Willy, walks behind me and his face lights up when we see the strange little men, who seem to have an orange tint to their skin. More show up and I see that they seem to be pruning the meadow, for lack of a better word, and I laugh as the jackhammer one is wielding causes his little form to shake a lot.

"What are they?"

"Where did they come from?" I don't catch who says any of those things as my mom comes and stands beside me, eyeing Willy cautiously. I give her a smile and break off a petal of the rose for her before eating one of my own.

"Are they real people?" Mike asks, his tone showing he has already decided that they aren't.

"Of course they're real people, they're Oompa-Loompas," Willy says and I see Mrs. Beauregarde standing behind him and awfully close. I shift a little closer to him by leaning my weight on my right leg since Willy is to my right.

"Oompa-Loompas?" Mr. Salt asks incredulously.

"Uh-huh, imported, direct from Loompaland." I raise an eyebrow at that, but choose to instead just look up at him curiously.

"There's no such place," Mr. Teavee says and Willy turns his head towards him slightly with a calm expression on his face.

"Of course there is," He argues before Mr. Teavee speaks up again.

"Mr. Wonka, I teach high school geography and I'm here to tell you--"

"Well then you'll know all about it and, oh, what a terrible country it is," Willy says before he goes into detail about how he went on a trip to find exotic new flavors for candy and ending up finding the Oompa-Loompas. When he mentions eating the green caterpillars I scrunch up my nose in disgust, feeling that slime going down my throat just from thinking about it. Willy gives me a small smile before he continues to tell us about how the Oompa-Loompas worshiped the cocoa bean and that he said he would give them all the cocoa beans they wanted if they came to work for him. "They are such wonderful workers. I feel I must warn you, though, they are rather mischievous. Always making jokes." He laughs and I jump at a shout.

"Augustus, my son that is not a good thing you do!" Mrs. Gloop shouts, looking over at a bank where Augustus is greedily drinking handfuls of chocolate from the river.

"Hey, little boy!" Willy shouts, walking forward and holding his hand up to make a point. "My chocolate must be untouched by human hands." Augustus suddenly loses his balance and falls into the river, being swallowed by the chocolate. I let out a small gasp and my mom covers her mouth with her empty hand in shock, Mrs. Gloop seems even more shocked as she watches her son disappear with worry. Willy just looks away, not even surprised by the event.

"He'll drown! He can't swim, save him!" Mrs. Gloop shouts at Willy frantically, but he just remains calm and watches. How can he just stand there and watch? I move forward, ready to jump into the river just to stop Mrs. Gloop's worrying.

"Chocolat, no! You can't swim very well either!" I dodge my mom's grasp, but stop as Willy puts his cane in front of me to block my way.

"Augustus! No!" I push away his cane as Augustus goes under and his mother screams. I can't just let a child drown and even though I won't be much help, at least I'll die with a good conscience since I'm the only one that seems willing to do something. Willy grabs my arm in a surprisingly strong grip and I can feel the warmth of his hand through his glove as he points toward the pipe that sucks up the chocolate, which is heading down near Augustus.

The pipe lands in the river and begins sucking up the chocolate with amazing force, causing a whirlpool to form below it. The suction of the pool starts dragging Augustus toward it and I calm as I realize Willy's plan. "Augustus! Augustus, watch out!" I have to trust that he really was planning that the pipes would land there and at this time, because I don't want to lose my faith in him. I don't want him to be just another harsh lesson from the real world. The pipe sucks Augustus in and he gets stuck about halfway up and the pipe begins to burst from the pressure gathering up.

"There he goes," Violet says, not even caring about her companion's fate.

"Call the fire brigade!" Mrs. Gloop shouts, still overwhelmed with worry about her son.

"It's a wonder that pipe is big enough," Mrs. Beauregarde says, amazed.

"Obviously it's not since he's stuck, but the pressure is building and he'll shoot up again soon." I pause before looking at Mrs. Gloop with worry, I feel so sorry for her. "He might gain a cracked or broken rib, though, from being forced through a too small space." I absently touch my own ribs, remembering the ache I had been ignoring as it returns full force now that it has my attention. I grit my teeth, but ignore the pain as a strange humming fills the air. "The Oompa-Loompas?

"Do you think he'll get enough air to last until the chocolate is dumped?" My mom asks, grabbing my other arm just in case I do still run out at the answer.

"What are they doing?" Veruca asks as she sees the Oompa-Loompas beginning to dance.

"Why, I do believe they are going to treat us to a little song," Willy says, smiling slightly. "It is quite a special occasion of course. They haven't had a fresh audience in many a moon." I keep my eyes on Augustus as the Oompa-Loompas begin to sing, but when I see that he isn't panting for air I calm and begin to watch the little people.

_Augustus Gloop, Augustus Gloop_

_The great big greedy Nincompoop _

_Augustus Gloop, so big and vile, _

_so greedy foul and infantile _

_Come on, we cry, the time is ripe _

_to send him shooting up the pipe _

_But don't, dear children be alarmed, _

_Augustus Gloop will not be harmed, _

_Augustus Gloop will not be harmed._

Willy is nodding his head to the music and it comes to me that he just might be so far out of tune with the world that he doesn't understand just how much danger Augustus is in. I really hope that's the reason as his grip still on my arm is finally realized and dropped. The Oompa-Loompas begin dancing and then swim in the chocolate as they continue singing.

_Although of course we must admit, _

_he will be altered quite a bit _

_Slowly wheels go round and round, _

_and cogs begin to grind and pound _

_This greedy brute, this louse's ear,_

_is loved by people everywhere, _

_for who could hate or bear a grudge _

_against a luscious bit of fudge?_

"Is he really going to become fudge?" I ask and my mom once again tightens her grip just in case, but my question goes unnoticed. As we watch Augustus shoot up the pipe from the built up pressure and I sigh in relief as the boy thinks to get a breath before the chocolate covers him.

"Bravo! Well done!" Willy shouts towards the retreating Oompa-Loompas, clapping his hands with a grin on his face. "Wasn't that just wonderful?" He asks and I nod, giving him a small smile.

"It was a nice tune, I'm going to have it in my head for a while," I admit, watching as the pipe leaves the room. I already can't lie to him, because it was an interesting tune and I know that Augustus will be fine.

"It seemed a bit rehearsed," Mr. Salt says, looking at the chocolatier with suspicion.

"Yeah, like it was planned," Mike adds and Willy pouts at their accusations.

"Oh, poppycock," He says, turning away.

"Where is my son? Where does that pipe go to?" Mrs. Gloop demands, a quaver in her voice.

"That pipe just so happens to lead directly to the room where I make the most delicious kind of strawberry-flavored, chocolate-coated fudge." Willy states with a smile and Mrs. Gloop begins rambling.

"Then he will be made into strawberry-flavored, chocolate-coated fudge. They'll be selling him by the pound all over the world!" I shudder a little at that thought and feel guilty for it, but cannibalism is a horrible thing.

"Uh, no. I wouldn't allow it." Willy responds simply and Mrs. Gloop relaxes slightly. I'm glad he's finally taking charge of the situation. "The taste would be terrible, could you imagine Augustus flavored, chocolate-coated gloop?" Well, at least he's taking control if not for the right reason. "Ew, the taste would be terrible." He turns and makes a strange noise, which calls an Oompa-Loompa over.

"I want you to take Mrs. Gloop up to the Fudge Room, Kay?" He asks of the little man. "Take a big stick and poke around in the big chocolate mixing barrel." He imitates the actions he's ordering with his cane. "Kay?" The Oompa-Loompa crosses his arms and Willy does the same before the worker walks over to Mrs. Gloop and leads her away.

"I really hope Augustus is okay?" I whisper to my mom as we all begin walking again. "No one deserves to drown…"

"He's fine, he'll be saved like you were," My mom responds and we return to the conversation at hand as Willy speaks towards Mike.

"You really shouldn't mumble I can't understand a word you're saying." I smile at that, knowing he's just ignoring whatever Mike's saying. I try to get Augustus out of my mind, trying to not dwell on Willy not really caring about the boy's plight. I'm just hoping it's because he knows he will be fine.

I really hope so.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** Hello everyone! Midterms are over, so I'm celebrating by writing this for y'all. Yeah, I'm not exactly social enough to do something for Spring Break, so here I am. Anyways, I'm sure this one is going to be as long as or even longer than the last one, but I'm not going to separate it into 2 parts. It looked longer on word than it did on the site, so yeah… Thanks to everyone who reviewed and even those who just read or added to favs or alerts, it's very much appreciated.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Charlie and The Chocolate Factory. I don't even own a pink, barbarian style, seahorse boat. That's probably a good thing though since I get seasick and I hate pink.

* * *

**Gumdrops Falling From a Cotton Candy Sky**

_**By Aina Riddle**_

**Chapter Five: Spinning**

I follow along behind Willy, forcing myself to not think about Augustus or his mother. I can't do anything now, but at least they're getting help. My eyes wander along the grass and towards the river as I absentmindedly nibble on my rose, my mother silent beside me. A rhythmic humming fills the air as we stop at the riverbank and I look toward the source to see a large, barbarian style boat in the shape of a pink seahorse making its way towards us.

The boat glides through the chocolate with the metal oars slicing through the viscous liquid silently, the Oompa-Loompas rowing it wearing blue and humming in beat with the drum. It stops before us and I let out a small laugh when they start giggling, because laughter is contagious and they have funny giggles. My smile remains on my face, the previous events forgotten for now, as Violet asks a question.

"What's so funny?"

"I'm wondering that too," My mom says to herself beside me and I shrug.

"Maybe it's because they love cocoa beans and their job is to travel through a chocolate river? It _is _made from cocoa beans after all," I reply, but it's really only a guess. My voice carries a bit more than my mom's and Violet glares at me, taking my words as sarcasm. I really wasn't trying to be sarcastic, I was just speculating what the answer could be, but she can take it that way if she wants to.

"I think it's from all those doggone cocoa beans," Willy says, leaning forward and breaking Violet's glare towards me; I'm not sure if the action was meant to do that or not. "Hey, by the way, did you guys know that chocolate contains a property that triggers the release of endorphins? Gives one the feeling of being in love." He giggles after he says this and I look at the rose in my hand silently for a moment before giving it to my mom after taking one last petal (because it's really good).

"You can have the rest," I whisper, placing the rose in her hands. I glance at the chocolatier to make sure he doesn't see the action before I speak to her again. I don't want him to feel bad about the action. "I want to make sure my feelings for him are real and not caused by endorphin-releasing chocolate."

"You don't say," Mrs. Beauregarde says and I jump slightly, but notice that her words are directed at Willy. Her tone is suggestive and I begin to question as to whether she is married or not. Granted, Willy Wonka is very handsome, but a person shouldn't flirt if they are married.

Willy loses his smile almost instantly at her words and he nervously looks ahead. "All aboard," The slight shakiness of his tone goes unnoticed to most, but both Mrs. Beauregarde and I notice it, and she is definitely not the one smiling about it. I'm not smiling because he's uncomfortable because I don't like seeing him like that; I'm smiling because he isn't giving any signs of returning her _affections_. I don't love him, no, but I want to see if I can and having someone else vying for his affection would make me not think this through clearly.

…That sounds so selfish. I really do want to be happy with him if I turn out to love him…but making him happy in any way I can sounds nice as well. The turn in my thoughts is pushed away since I know what it reveals about my feeling towards him, and instead I turn to my mom.

"After you, Madame," I say and hold my hand towards her with a slight bow (any more of one and my ribs would really be hurting me). She grins and takes my hand, stepping closer to the boat.

"Why thank you, good sir." She gingerly steps into the boat, using my offered hand for leverage and I grin as well.

"Only for a beautiful lady such as you," I reply, amusement most likely shining in my eyes at our actions.

"Oh shush," She says, breaking out of her role as she sits down in the very back. I laugh as I move closer to the boat.

"What? It's true! Men usually only help women they think are pre-" I pause as a gloved hand is held in front of me. My eyes travel up along the maroon jacket and meet violet ones. The silence lasts but a moment before I give him a smile, a true one and not just a small one like usual, and take the offered hand. "Thank you."

I step into the boat, the smile never leaving my lips as I look I take a seat beside my mom, smoothing my dress out when I do so. _Men usually only help women they think are pretty_, my words finish in my mind as I watch Willy step onto the boat. He takes the seat beside me and I can feel his warmth since he's so close because the benches aren't very big. I don't know what to think about him offering his hand to me, but a warm feeling has lodged itself in me and I can't, nor do I want to, get rid of it.

"Onward!" Willy orders the Oompa-Loompas with a wave of his hand and the boat lurches forward. I see him give us a quick grin, which I return, before we fall to silence and he looks forward. Humming fills the air once again as we float along the river and I look at the passing landscape in awe, not having seen everything in the room. I feel Willy shifting beside me and I look over as he pulls a large, pink ladle out of the river with chocolate dripping from it.

"Her, try some of this." He hands the ladle to me and I cup a hand underneath it to prevent the chocolate from getting on my dress. "It'll do you some good. You look starved to death."

"Thank you, but I'm pretty sure you already brought notice to my skinniness." I say before bringing the ladle to my lips and sipping the thick liquid. Warm chocolate runs down my throat and I let out a small moan of delight before blushing at the sound and handing the ladle to my mom as I lick my lips. "It's great!" He smiles, happy to hear my compliment. My mom takes the ladle from it, smiling at my plight but also blushing because of the 'starved to death' comment. She gets embarrassed when our money situation is pointed out, but I find that us having such a close family is much better.

"That's because it's mixed by waterfall, it's very important," I smile as he begins to repeat himself and I'm not sure if he honestly forgot he already told us this or if he's just trying to fill the silence. "It mixes the chocolate, churns it up, and makes it light and frothy." His hands move around as he says this, his actions ghosting those of earlier. "By the way, no other factory in the world-"

"You already said that," Veruca interrupts and Willy freezes, his hand in the air, before he draws it back with the latex squeaking as he clenches his fingers nervously.

"You're all quite short, aren't you?" He says randomly and I fail to hold in my laughter at their offended looks. "You are too." I stick my tongue out at him, feeling playful.

"Yes, but I _know _I'm short and I accept it. Although, I could _not _brush my hair in the morning and I'm sure it will add a few inches with how frizzy it gets," I respond and he chuckles, which sounds a bit deeper than his normal laugh.

"_Your_ hair gets frizzy?" My mom asks and I laugh as I visualize her hair in the mornings. "That's what I thought." Her grin is infectious and I don't lose the one it gives me as Violet defends herself.

"Well, yeah, we're children."

"Well, that's no excuse. I was never as short as you," He gloats and I smile, feeling the playfulness leaving me slightly. That is some really effective chocolate.

"You were once," Mike argues and Willy gains a slight smirk.

"Was not, know why? Because I distinctly remember putting a hat on top of my head." Mike rolls his eyes at the statement, but the chocolatier continues. "Look at your short little arms, you could never reach." The other turn forward with rolls of their eyes as well and I resist the urge to ask him what his life was like as a child. No matter what it may reveal, even the key to his creativity, I have no right to ask such a personal question. Childhoods aren't always good and I don't want to think about his being like mine.

"Do you remember what it was like being a kid," My mom asks and I look at her, trying to figure out why she would ask that. She was the one who taught me how important privacy is and to respect the privacy of others. She avoids my gaze and instead watches Willy, her look towards him intense behind the curls that had fallen in front of her eyes.

"Oh boy, do I," He replies fondly before he loses his smile as he thinks. "Do I?" I frown at that, but he seems to slip into memories long forgotten. I've made myself forget some memories too, like when those kids from school pushed me into a pond.

I don't think about it often because I don't want to be reminded, but I know they had been making fun of my fascination for Willy Wonka again. No one had even tried to save me when I shouted that I couldn't swim, they just ran, but before I blacked out I remember feeling strong arms wrapping around me. I like to think that it was Willy that had saved me since the pond was right next to the factory and therefore he would have seen me. That's just a fantasy though because when I had woken up that night I was laying in the snow all alone right next to the pond. I nearly died of pneumonia a week later, but the doctors had managed to save me. We don't know why, but the hospital bills were already paid for when I was checking out.

"Chocolat," I snap out of my thoughts when my mom says my name, grabbing my arm in worry as she points with her other hand at the tunnel ahead.

"Willy? Willy Wonka!" I say as we approach the very dark tunnel. I don't like the dark and I've always had the moon or the stars to keep my room lit. This is pitch darkness though and I don't know what could be waiting ahead. "We're headed for a tunnel, a very _dark_ tunnel."

"You're scared of the dark? What are you, two?" I glare at Mike and Pick up the empty ladle that is still covered in chocolate.

"I could demonstrate how I threw that candy apple earlier, do you want me to?" I growl out and he turns back around quickly. I hate it when people make fun of me, but I usually don't fight back. I just don't want to be made fun of in front of Willy, whether over my own faults or my obsession with him. I don't want him to think I suffered because of him, because I didn't, it was my own choice.

"Yeah, okay," Willy responds to my earlier announcement, having just come out of his little trance. His gaze still seems unfocused as gives out orders to the Oompa-Loompas, "Full speed ahead."

The boat jolts as the beating of the drum speeds up and the Oompa-Loompas rowing increase their pace in a uniform movement. I grab my mom's hand as the darkness envelopes us, but I keep my eyes open and forward in an attempt to pierce through the dark and see what's ahead. "How can they see where they're going?" Violet asks and I realize that I'm wondering the same thing.

"They can't," Willy says, still with the lost-sounding tone he's had since he came out of his flashback. Worry for him creeps into my mind as I notice that, but then I realize exactly what he just said, _they can't_. "There's no knowing where they're going." I squeeze my mom's hand tighter at the implications of that. We could very well crash and not only would I drown in chocolate, I would drown with some aching, broken ribs because the impact with a wall would surely cause the cracks to become full breaks.

"Turn on the lights!" I smile at that and bright beams of light shine in front of the boat from above to show a descending ceiling of red-orange. I feel my eyes widen, and then we're falling. The boat drifts along the quick current wildly, but still under the control of the Oompa-Loompas, as we go through a series of smaller drops, chocolate splashing everywhere. I can feel drops of warm chocolate land on exposed skin, but I ignore it as a feeling of exhilaration overcomes me.

The lights shining from above emit a multitude of colors and distort the surroundings as they blend in. A kaleidoscope of colors mixed with the rushing feeling of the current underneath us and the chocolate scented air; it's wonderful. I can just feel inspiration coming to me with such a creative use of lights, a boat, and chocolate. I just might write about this adventure, but without revealing any secret recipes because I won't betray Willy's trust no matter what.

The boat slows down as we enter a calmer area after one last drop and the light fades out to become a shade of silvery-blue, like the moonlight of a full moon on a cloudless night. Something that comes rarely in my ever-cloudy home and a smile comes to my face, one that matches my mom's beside me.

"People, keep an eye out," Willy says, looking around slightly. "We're passing some very important rooms here." I notice the circular shaped, vault like doors along the walls, small landing platforms in front of them. The functions the rooms serve are labeled above the doors in lettering matching the colors being emitted from each room. We pass a room called clotted cream, a room labeled coffee cream with pink emitting from it, and strangely a room labeled hair cream, which glows a light blue.

"What do you use hair cream for?" Mrs. Beauregarde asks, looking back at the chocolatier. I give him a curious look as well and he primps his hair.

"To lock in moisture, ha ha," I let out a small laugh at that as the blonde-haired woman turns forward again after giving him a strange look. A cracking sounds comes from somewhere to my left and I look over my mom's shoulder to see a cow suspended in the air with Oompa-Loompas cracking whips at it. The cow emits a moo at each particular loud crack and I wince in sympathy for it, but I understand its purpose.

"Whipped cream," I guess as I look at the cow closer and see that no marks are being left on it, so they're not being to harsh on it, which is good. Still…

"Precisely," Willy says with a giggle and a grin towards me, his hands resting on the cane in front of him. I return the grin with a blush, the cries of the cow silenced at the happiness I feel when he smiles or grins at me.

"That doesn't make sense," Veruca says, looking over her fur-clad coat. I see drops of chocolate on the expensive mink and I feel sympathy for the animals that will be killed to replace it, but I also feel satisfaction as I picture her reaction when she notices the stains.

"For your information, little girl, whipped cream isn't whipped cream at all unless it's been whipped with whips," Willy says with a fake grin, explaining it to her as if it's obvious. If she were to look through his eyes, it probably would, it makes sense to me in a twisted sort of way. "Everybody knows that." His grin turns to a frown and she turns back, probably shocked that things didn't go her way just now.

The Oompa-Loompas pick up their pace again and I feel my mouth drop open as we enter a large area filled with purple walls containing many arches, the chocolate running around them swirling like rapids. I grab my mom's hand again, but I'm not as nervous as before and my heart flutters as I picture the scenes from before; will we be seeing a tunnel of colors again? I hope so.

"What causes the rapids?" I ask over the roar of the chocolate river and the beating of the drum.

"This is where milk is mixed in through jets to make milk chocolate," Willy says, pointing at a rapid where there is lighter colored chocolate then that of the tunnels before. "It shoots up and makes the rapids, it's really fun." I nod at his explanation with a smile, holding back winces of pain each time the boat jolts. I suppose he gathers dark chocolate from points in the river before this.

The flow picks up even faster and to my enjoyment the lights start changing colors again, which causes me to gaze at the fast-changing scenery in wonder. My mom squeezes my hand to catch my attention and I look over at her to see her eyeing my ribs, where I had placed my other hand in an attempt to stop the bumps from hurting me more. I squeeze her hand to comfort her as I also give her an uneasy smile. I know she's not saying anything because she doesn't want to risk ruining this day for me by having me be sent away to the hospital, and I couldn't be happier that she's doing that for me. The least I can do is make her believe what she's doing is alright by pretending the pain isn't as bad as it really is. I don't want her to think she's a bad parent because she's going along with what I want.

I'm amazed as the Oompa-Loompas manage to keep us from hitting any of the walls and yet still make it seem like we're out of control. Willy wouldn't risk our lives or the lives of children, so I know they're in control instead of it just being dumb luck.

I hope so, which is something I'm going to be doing a lot today. Hoping.

We come to another area, passing a jelly bean door, where the river becomes calm once again, a lighter color now. The area has a dome-like ceiling where a light shines out from the middle, making it look like it opens up into the heavens, but that would risk contaminating the chocolate and so it's either a fluorescent light (which is most likely because of chances of nighttime boat rides) or a window.

"Stop the boat! I want to show you guys something," Willy says, excited, and the Oompa-Loompa that's drumming beats a final thump and the boat stops before a platform leading towards the 'Inventing Room', which also shines in pink. We unload, my mom Willy helping me out before I help my mom, who reluctantly takes my hand.

"Are you okay, darling?" She whispers in my ear after she pretty much helps herself out, refusing to lean that much weight on me. I nod, reaching down to hold her hand. It's a comfort that I need in this place I love, a reminder of who I really am, and a distraction from the pain.

The metal door opens before us after Willy presses a combination of buttons and I hear myself gasp as I see and smell the different candies being invented. Large machines, most bearing a colorful, circular shape, are scattered around the room with many test tubes, vials, beakers, flasks and other things filled with different colored chemicals lying around them. I hesitantly follow Willy into the room, worried about breaking something and ruining his inventions. Steam is billowing around, causing the air to become humid and even warmer while Oompa-Loompas in black suits walk around checking each area. They seem perfectly at home in the slightly hot room and their hair amazingly stays in the same style, while I can practically feel mine frizzing up.

"Now this is the most important room in the entire factory," Willy says, turning around and speaking to us above the gurgling of the chemicals and humming of the machines. As always, his hands are moving around, one waving in the air while the other moves on his cane restlessly. "Now, everyone enjoy yourselves, but just don't touch anything, okay? Go on, go on, scoot." He uses both hands to explain the imperativeness of his last statement about no touching and everyone wanders around after that.

I watch Violet and Mike run over to a small tank where Oompa-Loompas are swimming around after small candy balls, while I walk over to look at a rather colorful array of liquids surrounded by Oompa-Loompas. My mom joins Violet and Mike to make sure they don't do anything. "Hello," I say, squatting down so I can look closer at the pot, a myriad of colors gazes back at me. "I'm Chocolat." These people fascinate me, but anything different, unique, and that has an association with Willy Wonka fascinates me. They look at me warily, but seem to relax a bit when I say my name.

"They like your name," Willy says from behind me as one makes some weird gestures towards him.

"Thank you," I tell them before I use my knees to push myself up, holding in my gasps of pain. Squatting down was not my best idea, but I tend to not think sometimes. I eye my trembling arms, still bearing splatters of chocolate ( I really need to wash that off the next chance I get), and will them to calm at least a little before I turn back to Willy. "I don't know what they're making, but it has some very pretty colors." He smiles, about to respond when Violet speaks up, unintentionally interrupting us.

"Hey, Mr. Wonka, what's this?" He turns at the question and begins to walk over when he sees what she is talking about.

"Oh, let me show you." When he reaches the tank he holds a hand over the water, in which an Oompa-Loompa places a red candy ball. "Thank you." He walks away, stopping before the rest of the group as he waves the red candy around. "These are everlasting gobstoppers. They're for children who are given very little allowance money. You can suck on it all year long and it will never get any smaller. Isn't that neat?"

"Very, but won't that keep you from selling very many?" I ask, hoping he doesn't think I'm criticizing.

"Nope, because they're each a different flavor and I'll keep coming up with new flavors and some that have more than one flavor, because it wouldn't be fun to have something for so long that just tastes the same." I nod at his reasoning, feeling relief that he didn't take offense.

"It's like gum," Violet says, her gum making an annoying smacking sound with each chew.

"No," Willy states very clearly, holding the candy in front of him. "Gum is for chewing, and if you tried chewing one of these Gobstoppers you'd break all of your little teeth off. But they sure do taste terrific." He obviously doesn't like gum, but I won't object because Violet has made sure I'm going to avoid it from now on.

"And this is hair toffee." I walk over to where he is, a gold colored toffee in his hands. "You suck down one of these little boogers and in exactly half an hour a brand-new crop of hair will grow out of the top of your little noggins." I feel a hand enclose mine and squeeze it when Willy says that and I look back at the perpetrator to see my mom grinning. My dad would love this stuff since he's worried that he is going bald. "And a moustache, and a beard." I try to hold in my giggles as I picture my dad with a moustache and beard, and the giggles I hear from behind me show that my mom had thought the same thing.

"Who wants a beard?" Mike asks, his tone condescending once again. This little boy need to learns some respect and stop thinking that just because he's smart that that means he is better than the rest of us.

"Well…" Willy says, thinking for a moment. "Beatniks for one, folk singers and motorbike riders; You know, all those hip, jazzy, super-cool, neat, keen, and groovy cats." I watch as the two young girls nearby eye each other when they think the other isn't looking, and I wonder briefly if all of these kids have superiority complexes. "It's in the fridge, daddy-o. Are you hep to the jive, can you dig what I'm laying down? I knew that you could. Slide me some skin, soul-brother." I laugh slightly as Mike just stares at his hand, completely confused as to what he had just said. I guess he's no as smart as he thought.

Unfortunately, the mixture isn't quite right yet, cause an Oompa-Loompa tried one yesterday, and well, he-" Willy tries to hold in some giggles as he thinks of what had happened and I wonder briefly what it was before it literally walks right in front of us. A figure the size of an Oompa-Loompa that really just looks like a bunch of walking, wavy brown hair comes towards us and stops, and I know this is the one who had tried the toffee. "How are you today?" Willy asks the hairy form loudly, so it can hear him through all of the hair. It holds up two thumbs and Willy gives a nervous smile. "You look great." The Oompa-Loompa walks away at that and I cover my mouth with my hand to hide my smile.

We walk over to a large machine, the circular walls are clear and reveal the many wires inside, and I absently note that above the machine an Oompa-Loompa walks along the catwalks. "Watch this," Willy says in excitement, pulling on a small white lever with a red knob on top. After he pulls it he hurries over to where a large silver part of the machine rotates to before stopping and opening up as the chemicals in the machine bubble and a whirring sound fills the room. A small metal arm is revealed only to turn into another, smaller one, and then again and from that one comes a piece of gum. I find it ironic that he hates gum so much but still makes it.

Violet grabs the gum and Mike speaks out again. "You mean that's it?" I admit one piece of gum might be a bit disappointing, but obviously there is something special about it, so he needs to shut up.

"Do you even know what 'it' is?" Apparently Willy is thinking along the same lines as me, mainly about how stupid it is to ask that before he had even had a chance to explain.

"It's gum," Violet states simply.

"Yeah." Willy nods before explaining. "It's a stick of the most amazing and sensational gum in the whole universe. Know why? Know why?" I shake my head no, smiling at his excitement and pride in his work. "Because this gum is a full three-course dinner all by itself."

"Why would anyone want that?" Mr. Salt asks and I see my mom roll her eyes. Of course he and his wife don't have to worry about cooking, but that would at least solve our hunger problems. That and we wouldn't have to worry about wasting electricity cooking and could instead use the extra money to fix the house. He doesn't have to worry about cost because he's rich or the hassle of cooking disappearing because he's a man. Willy opens his mouth to speak, but seems to forget the words and instead feels around his jacket for something. I giggle slightly when I see the note cards once again.

"It would be the end of all kitchens and all cooking," He reads in a persuasive tone. "Just a little strip of Wonka's magic chewing gum and that is all you will…ever need at breakfast, lunch, and dinner. This piece of gum happens to be tomato soup, roast beef, and blueberry pie."

"It sounds great," My mom breathes and I look over my shoulder to smile at her.

"It sounds weird," Veruca says and once again I notice the rich issue keeps them from realizing the things he could do with this. This could possibly solve world-hunger if each strip provides everything that the real foods provide in nutrients, carbs, and other things. I'm sure they do considering it would be the 'end of all kitchens and cooking'.

"It sounds like my kind of gum," Violet announces, pulling the gum in her mouth out and sticking it behind her ear. Yeah, I'm definitely going to avoid all gum other than the meal gum once it's finished.

"I'd rather you didn't." Willy says, waving his hand around in warning with a serious look on his face. "There's still one or two things that are-"

"I'm the world-record holder in chewing gum, I'm not afraid of anything." She stuffs the gum in her mouth while Willy gives a look that says, 'Well, if that's what you think.' Her mother smirks in pride and I wonder if she realizes her daughter could possibly face a side effect or if she only cares that her daughter is doing something that no one else has done before.

"How is it, honey?" Mrs. Beauregarde asks and I feel curiosity as well, but also a small amount of pity for Violet.

"It's amazing! Tomato soup, I can feel it running down my throat." The amazing concept that he can make people feel sensations overwhelms my pity for her, but it comes back when Willy gives her another warning that's she disregards.

"Yeah. Spit it out." I wonder what the side effect is; maybe it causes her to lose her taste or to be able to taste only this meal for the rest of her life? Maybe it just makes her sick?

"Sweetie, I think you'd better-" My mom begins, but Violet ignores her and instead interrupts her.

"It's changing, roast beef with baked potato. With crispy skin and butter!" She sounds so excited, but I can see her eyes darting occasionally to her mother to see if she's doing right. I look at Willy and see that he looks a bit worried.

"Keep chewing," Mrs. Beauregarde encourages and I see my mom give her a look of disgust. "My little girl's gonna be the first person in the world to have a chewing-gum meal."

"Yeah, I'm just a little concerned about the-" I try to listen to his warning, but Violet interrupts, more worried about doing right in her mother's eyes than for her own health.

"Blueberry Pie and Ice cream!"

"That part," Willy points out, giving up hope on his warnings. I guess it's too late.

"What's happening to her nose?" Veruca asks and I look to see a small spot of blue blooming on the tip of her nose. I love colors, they stick out in the gray world outside of this factory, but I don't think people are supposed to be blue.

"It's turning blue," Mr. Salt says in answer to Veruca's question, his tone is one of astonishment.

"Your whole nose has gone purple," Mrs. Beauregarde tells Violet and the girl raises her hand to her nose, where the violet color is tracing along her veins before dyeing the skin in-between them violet as well.

"What do you mean?" She asks with her tone as innocent as a little girl's is supposed to be. She really wasn't thinking of the consequences, she was just thinking about making her mom proud of her, which is probably what she always does. She wants her mom to see and acknowledge her, so she wins whatever she does and does whatever she can in order to get her mom to notice her. I feel the pity I was feeling come back, a bit stronger this time.

"Violet, you're turning Violet!" She says and they both look at Willy in panic, the girl more panic, and the mom more horror. "What's happening?" She asks of the chocolatier, and he begins to back away.

"Well, I told you I hadn't quite got it right. Because it goes a little funny when it gets to the dessert. It's the blueberry pie that does it." At this point Veruca isn't even trying to hide her satisfied look as she gazes upon Violet. "I'm terribly sorry." He pauses in backing up, a scrunched, uneasy look on his face as if he's about to say something but can't think of it, and then he ducks from view.

"Mother, what's happening to me?" We all back away as the violet travels along her body, even her hair and her clothes. I feel disgust when I see that Mrs. Beauregarde has backed away too instead of comforting her daughter. The young girl starts to swell up at an alarming rate and I realize what is happening. She's becoming a blueberry…

"She's swelling up," My mom gasps and I nod in agreement.

"Like a blueberry." My statement makes everyone realize what is really happening, even Violet and she looks at herself in terror. I see Willy rise back up from where he was hiding momentarily to watch before he lowers himself again, suddenly appearing behind Mrs. Beauregarde.

"I've tried it on, like, 20 Oompa-Loompas, and each one ended up as a blueberry. It's just weird." He says, his giggle nervous.

"I can't have a blueberry as a daughter," Mrs. Beauregarde says, eyeing her daughter's huge, round form. "How is she supposed to compete?"

"Compete? All you care about is competing? Are you blind to your daughter's feelings? Your daughter could possibly blow up and all you give a damn about is competing? You don't even deserve to be a mother." Amazingly, it's my mom who spits out these words and not me, although I had been thinking the same thing.

"You could put her in the county fair," Veruca suggests and I glare at her.

"Shut up before I make you, you spoiled brat," I growl, too low for her father to hear. Mrs. Beauregarde stares at Willy and a beat starts up from the mischievous Oompa-Loompas.

_Yeah, yeah_

_Listen close, listen hard _

_The tale of Violet Beauregarde _

_This gentle girl, she sees no wrong _

_Chewing, chewing, chewing, chewing, _

_chewing, chewing all day long _

_Chewing, chewing all day long _

_Chewing, chewing all day long _

_Chewing, chewing all day long_

Willy is dancing to the disco beat and I listen to the music and Violet's screaming as the Oompa-Loompas jump on top of her in dance. They're spinning her in the direction of the large, round door that leads to the boat, their song most likely there to distract others from the situation. That must be what Willy is doing by dancing, he's hoping to distract us from the problem and cheer us up instead.

_She goes on chewing till at last _

_Her chewing muscles grow so fast _

_From her face her giant chin _

_Sticks out just like a violin _

_Chewing, chewing all day long _

_Chewing, chewing all day long _

_Chewing, chewing all day long _

_Oompa-Loompa, Oompa-Loompa, _

_Oompa-Loompa, Oompa-Loompa_

_For years and years she chews away _

_Her jaws get stronger every day _

_And with one great tremendous chew _

_They bite the poor girl's tongue in two _

_And that is why we try so hard _

_To save Miss Violet Beauregarde _

_Chewing, chewing all day long _

_Chewing, chewing all day long _

_Chewing, chewing, chewing, chewing, _

_chewing, chewing all day long._

_Chewing, chewing all day long._

_Chewing, chewing all day long._

"Mr. Wonka!" Violet can be heard shouting. After all, he had at least tried to warn her of what could happen while her mom had just encouraged the rule breaking, so of course she shout for him. Plus, he knows what to do if this has happened before.

"I want you to roll Ms. Beauregarde into the boat and take her along to the Juicing Room at once, okay?" Willy asks of an Oompa-Loompa after Mrs. Beauregarde stared at him expectantly.

"The Juicing Room? What are they gonna do to her there?" I feel satisfaction as I actually hear worry in her tone, because my mom's words have obviously had some impact on her.

"Er, they're gonna squeeze her, like a little pimple," He pauses after his awkward analogy, but continues in explanation. "We gotta squeeze all of that juice out of her immediately." With a small gasp as she remembers my mom's words that her daughter might blow up, the blonde woman runs up to her daughter's form, which is stuck in the doorway.

"Mother, help me! Please!" I wish Violet would have been able to see her mother's face just now, if only to know that her mother actually does care for and not just competing. I just hope Mrs. Beauregarde can keep this up. Violet is finally pushed through the door with the help of her mother and they disappear from view.

"Come on," Willy says after a minute of awkward silence. "Let's boogie." I follow him as the door shuts behind Violet and listen to the rhythmic tapping of his cane on the floor while I think, the noise keeping me calm. I hope the squeezing process isn't painful, because I don't blame Violet…

….And I don't want to blame Willy Wonka.

* * *

**A/N:** I hope y'all liked it even though I wasn't very satisfied with it, but then again I'm hardly ever satisfied with my writing. Let me know if it was at least okay, please?


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